Princess of mud
by Vuld Edone
Summary: It would have been a great horror story if it hadn't been written by a six year old filly.


**This is a story from before the wedding, where I wondered who now that Luna was friendly would be Celestia's counterpart. I then noticed that "caelum" meant sky and "caenum" meant mud - or worse. Thus the princess of mud. Then I began to link that princess of mud to Frankenstein and that's when I wondered who would be Mary Shelley in My Little Pony.  
**

* * *

Nightmare Night had passed and a few nights too before the Cutie Marks Crusaders would assemble again. It was past curfew, once sun had set they would leave their bed, each one with her own way, to meet at their tree house. The ramp had been taken away, arrived first Applebloom grunted at this sight. She was alone on a gusty night, leaves of the orchards moving around playful with moonbeams. The last rain had let puddles of mud on the ground, still as the grass would be brushed by the wind. Turning to the farm she hesitated, then noticed the sheaves of hay behind and remembered the barn. She rushed there, her dull yellow coat quick to evaporate in the surrounding darkness.

It took a few seconds for Sweetie Belle to resort to magic against the fence. Sparkles exhilarated the air, then the glimmer covered a plank and lifted it up high enough for her to cross in a last glance of frustration. Then she let go and the falling plank hitting the ground made her jolt in panic, so she rushed to the tree house just to see there was no way up. The filly unicorn looked around, a bit nervous, even if the place was familiar. Up in the air a few scarce black clouds were losing themselves under bright constellations, and seeing those stars she calmed down.

"Oh Sweetie Belle you're here!"  
Frozen in her sketch of flight, she fell down: "Don't surprise me like that!" To the smiling pony.  
"Well then stop nightdreaming! Here!" She let go the rope she munched while talking. "I couldn't find where my sister put the ramp so I took a rope!"  
"Great… great!"

With her share of excitement the filly got up, her fright already gone, and watched as her friend would swing it then throw it at their house's barrier. It hit, then fell as there was no knot on it. A skeptic look later she threw it again and missed, but catching it the moment it grazed the picket Sweetie Belle held it and, all concentrated, attached it firmly.

She had let them hanging. She had to be the last, not by her own fault, she only forgot about the meeting. The night was deep and dark despite the rich sky, a crescent of moon leading her to the farm, it was still hard for her to guess her way through all the trees and bushes. Branches would stir at her passage and at every opening the wind would suddenly blow, raising locks on her blazing coat. But there were the orchards, jumping over the fence she made her way to the tree house. She was sweating, surprised to find no ramp, no mean to reach the house and no light whatsoever. "What's happening?" She muttered for herself. "Where are the others?" Her wings shut she circled in puzzlement, then tried to scale the tree, with little success.

Her friends heard that. They both walked at the edge of the balcony, the tapping of their hooves making the pegasus aware of their presence. Their two heads appeared leaned upside-down and they whispered: "Scootaloo!" Before any had time to add something, Applebloom had let the rope go, hanging again with all the knots on its length, like a ladder. With that last detail going in to escape the wind, once the door was closed they found themselves all three together, by the light of one lamp.

Scootaloo was first to break their giggles: "Wait! You didn't take your costumes!"

The white filly was about to answer she had none either, then remembered she had none to begin with, and she showed embarrassment. It had been hard enough to come, she couldn't make it happen. Applebloom had planned to put it in the tree house, for this night, yet she had to let her Granny wash it.

"This night will be a disaster" she concluded, and the other two nodded.  
"But we are still going to tell each other frightening stories?"

Scootaloo quickly blew the lamp of its fireflies and in the sudden dark answered: "Of course we are!" Scared at first, the crusaders then frowned at her in silence, all three engulfed in obscurity. The pony looked at the lamp, then at her fierce friend: "They're not coming back you know." Without fireflies Sweetie Belle took things at hooves, found a candle and lit it. The renewed light was more discreet, not even reaching the window so they cumulated in that tiny bright space where their legs would touch.

It was the perfect night, all agreed, a strong night with squalls to make their hearts beat hard. Yet the crusaders had no idea for a story, and each was looking at the other in hope they would have thought of it during those few days they were apart. That gave Scootaloo an idea, and she began:

"Once upon a time…"  
"No no no no!" Sweetie Belle stopped her. "Your tone is right but that's no way to introduce a horror story!"  
"And I am meant to do it how?"  
She met her face to face. "You always have to begin with it was a stormy night…"

They were staring at each other, grinning, then the blazing filly let go with a "oh, okay!" and returned to her story. It was upon a stormy night that three fillies, no, three mares would meet for their last time. They had to…

"Eeesh! This is hard!"  
The unicorn got impatient: "You're making it all up!"  
"Because you could do any better!"

Her hoof in wonder at her mouth, Sweetie Belle thought of it hard. She had noticed that Applebloom was getting sleepy, her eyes a little wider, and that made her think of a story. It would be, on a stormy night, a stallion with no eyes, wandering through the plain in search of someone to see. His hooves would tread the grass and he would abruptly stop and raise high then smash the ground in a piercing scream. At that point the others were taken in the story, shivers in their withers and stifles. A long silence let them stress even more, and they were waiting for the unicorn to continue, but she was unable to find anything. All she had was this, black, stallion.

"And?" Asked the pony at her left, her muscles tense. She saw not a word would follow, so she suddenly decided to add: "And…" And there would be a castle, on the flank of a mountain, with white towers and white walls. The stallion had entered that castle, and all ponies in it feared it so they would hide. "Give me back what's mine!" Applebloom yelled up on her legs over her scared friends. Yet her hoof had touched the candle and they see it almost fall on the wooden floor, so all in panic rushed to prevent it. After that they all lain down again, between them, but the brave pony, trying to return to her story, stood in a blank state, then grumbled.

"We can't be that bad!"  
Scootaloo nodded painfully: "At least your stories went somewhere…"

They all stared, disappointed, as the wind kept its disturbance at the outside. With the mood faltering even more Applebloom smacked the ground with her hoof then decided they would do something else, and to make for it they would promise to complete their stories for another scary night.

With that decision taken, hooves crossed short of a Pinkie promise, they spent the rest of the night sleeping. In the quiet room only Sweetie Belle was agitated by her dream, calming only at the approach of the sun. When morning came they heard the ramp being put in place, quickly awakening all they could do was wait for Applejack to enter. The mare got in, mane like straw and tail bound, asking them if they had a good time. They all nodded, so she told them about breakfast then went her way. "Does she know?" Scootaloo asked about the curfew, but they didn't care much more after that.

* * *

Past breakfast the Cutie Mark Crusaders would get separated, with farm duty calling for Applebloom. They told her "later", leaving her in the hooves of her big sister fastening her red ribbon. The unicorn was meant to leave too, still she went Scootaloo's way by a little wood past the hill, on a dull hoofpath. Only when it became inevitable did she depart, saying goodbye and watching the pegasus run further by wild paths. She ambled slowly to the Carousel, so sadly that her own sister outside waiting for her was surprised, and asked what had happened. "I don't know" she said and that meant she was preoccupied.

It wasn't that she was unhappy to help her sister with filly dresses. For a few hours she actually smiled and had fun, but as noon had passed and the sun would begin its slow descent the white unicorn couldn't help but approach the window and sigh.

"Why don't you go?" Rarity asked, her buckled mane against her little sister's.  
"But we still have that black and white dress to correct!"  
She just smiled: "That one is too sad! Give me an afternoon to make it shine, now will you?"

She had already run outside, halting only in the garden to turn back and return to her sister, hug her then leave for good. With Apple Acres in the distance she decided to begin by finding Scootaloo, so the unicorn trotted to the wood where they departed, then looked around somewhat sure she would find something. The river was roaring down stream, wild and fierce like her friend. She emerged from the trees, her purple light mane like rain contrasting with those dark trunks, to see the young pegasus idling on a rock over the water. "Hey Scoot!" She called, waving at her.

The filly got up, surprised, waved her leg then took a few steps back before not jumping as she had quickly estimated she couldn't make it across. They yelled to each other to cover the river's uproar, why each happened to be free when they thought the other was busy. As they talked, both back tracked the current, following each other from their side, sometime hidden by a bush or a tree.

"I still can't do it!" Sweetie Belle complained. "Since last night, I have this story in my head, I cannot get it right!"  
"You are still on that?" The pegasus wasn't. "Just make your stallion do stuff…"  
"No!" A revolted no. "It's something completely different! It's like I have it on my muzzle!"

Scootaloo would have answered but she had become wary of the earth her friend was walking on, unstable and ready to disaggregate. The unicorn in her thoughts only noticed too late when she heard the voice in alarm and felt emptiness under her hooves. She was already falling, rolling down to the stream, stopping short of the water, by chance on mud and not on rock. "Are you okay?" She heard, in echo to the bruises on her body. All had happened so fast she couldn't react, feeling mostly the contact of the cold mud on her coat, covering her legs, on her barrel and chest, on her neck and even up to under her eyes.

"Hey Scoot'!" She said happily. "I think I have it!"  
"Have what?"

Her fierce friend was still estimating the distance, still wide yet she decided to jump this time and made it across in a rough landing. She got up first then turned to her friend still in the humid soil.

"My story! I know what my story will be!"  
"That's great!" She answered while trying to get her up. "Mind to keep that for later?"

But the filly shook her head stubbornly. She couldn't explain it, yet in her eyes was expressed the sudden worry to forget the idea she just got. As soon as she was up the unicorn began circling around her fierce friend, her coat still dirty, and she would throw a piece or two of what she was envisioning. Even her tail had been soiled, the light purple pulled down by the mud on it. Under those conditions Scootaloo proposed they would keep following the river to a curve where she could bath and wash herself. So they went, up to the end of the wood and Ponyville opened, the first bridge near, but on a curve of tall grass both plunged head first. Their discussion changed as they played, about Applebloom and everything else, for as long as they could care, after which they stretched on grass aside to let the sun dry them.

Sweetie Belle, however, didn't need to say a word for her friend to guess she was still thinking about her story. She was actually more and more distressful as she felt details were escaping her grasp. Now clean, her wet mane plastered on her neck she let her hooves tend to the sky.

"It's not fair" she said. "Whatever effort I make, by tonight I'll have forgotten it!"  
"Then find a way to make it last!"

A large part of the day had already been spent, she would soon have to leave again. Scootaloo probably thought the same thing, at the same time, and stood silent. They weren't smiling, that at least they knew of each other. It convinced her to act, but for a moment she just couldn't find anything. Of frustration the unicorn chew a blade of grass or two, then kept painting her story on the sky with her hooves. "Twilight!" She spontaneously claimed, jolting. Her friend rolled over and got up too to try and understand. She would go and see Twilight as she was good with stories in books, and ask her for help. Then she asked if the pegasus would come, which she declined, because she had still to wait here for something. But they promised they would see each other this very night, with Applebloom, to hear her story.

She rushed through the streets of Ponyville in a hurry, as if her story was decaying in front of her. The library was there, the hollow tree with its door open and the purple mare inside, busy correcting the footnotes of notes of the index of an encyclopedia. Twilight was alone that day, so absorbed by her task that she didn't immediately notice her visitor. After a few steps inside the filly cleared her voice, then tapped with her hoof so that she would get attention. "Sweetie Belle?" Said the mare when she got out of her work. During her run through Ponyville the unicorn had made her mind, so with all seriousness:

"Twilight, I need to read a book!"  
It was so unexpected for her that Twilight simply couldn't react, an expression of joy growing even as disbelief had to be dug deep in, and all she could answer was: "okay".

Reading a book, that much she had decided, now that all those shelves were surrounding her the filly didn't know what to look for exactly. It was the exact question that was asked to her, and she decided to begin with mud. "Mud?" But they went to letter M to find simply no book about it, not on other letters either because nopony had bothered writing about wet earth. However Twilight returned at her encyclopedia, getting a tome around the tenth to open it for her ardent reader. The article was there, all about mud, a long and boring text. The two unicorns stared at it before the younger said "It's what I wanted!"

"Are you sure?"  
"More than sure!" And she began following the lines with her hoof. "Somewhat… sure…" She would almost scratch the paper to revive the smell of mud. "Kind of… maybe… It's no use! I'm certain to forget it now!"  
"What are you talking about?"  
"My story! I don't want to forget it so I was asking you and you read books so I thought if I read books I wouldn't forget!"

That's not how it works, was telling the mare's expression. She was, however, more interested by the very first part, on hearing that Sweetie Belle had a story she couldn't help but answer: "Then why don't you write it down?" It was an odd idea but the filly unicorn was desperate enough to try it. For the second time in a row, Twilight couldn't hide how pleased she was, and she looked around for a quill, ink and paper. Only paper was missing so she told Sweetie Belle to give her a second and began to search the room and all of its cavities until she found a roll of sheets she immediately took to give to the filly. "Thanks… do you mind if I keep reading that?" And for a third time Twilight felt like dancing, such was her surprise for watching that unicorn get interested in a scientific writing.

She left a few minutes and a few articles later, a bit before evening to return to the Carousel where Rarity discovered all the material she was transporting. They didn't mention the dress, after dinner both returned to their tasks and the filly sit to begin writing her story. Now that she had the quill suspended in the air by magic she felt her story at grasp, yet so far away she remembered her despair before falling in the river. A panic took her, at the thought that it would be too late, but then she remembered all she read about mud, ponies and princesses, and the ink flowed by itself on the page. That's when she noticed the border of her sheet was shining of cold colours. She wondered what it was, but as long as it came from Twilight she decided it could only be fine.

* * *

For an hour or two, all along, all she did was write her story. Sentence after sentence, idea after idea, almost without a halt she would lay down all she had and to her surprise it came so easily she almost got the impression that it wasn't her story at all, but one a pony would whisper to her ear as she wrote. Night had come, it was dark when she interrupted her writing, happy to have fixed so much, more than half of it that wouldn't disappear. Suddenly she realized there was the meeting, and she rolled the sheets then left. To get past the corridor the unicorn again made little magic cushions under her hooves and ambled quietly, then reached the door and ran in direction of Sweet Apple Acres.

Both of her friends were already waiting when she arrived, the ramp there so all she had to do was to trot up to them. They saw the roll with her and got excited, but before their voices would get louder all entered the little house. Inside, a few fireflies were moving freely, little glimmers in the dark that, each time they passed near, painted sharp shadows on the ponies faces.

"Alright now Sweetie Belle!" Applebloom yawned. "Show us what you got!"  
"Prepare to be scared!" She answered in a grin.

The story didn't begin with a stormy night, but when dawn was meant to come the sun was nowhere to be seen. Ponies in Equestria began to panic, as nothing should have prevented the princess from accomplishing her duty. They sent emissaries to Canterlot, to learn what was happening and make their fear heard. But on their arrival they found only but complete disarray, as the princess had died.

"You can't do that!"  
They weren't only horrified, they were shocked.  
"But it's a horror story!"  
"We know" Scootaloo responded, "but you don't have to go that far!"

She disagreed, especially now that her thoughts were put on the paper, but after a groan Sweetie Belle back tracked on her story. On their arrival the emissaries would find Canterlot in disarray, as the princess was… ill. "See? Much better!" She mourned the lost effect and continued. Given she was ill, ponies were desperately looking for a cure, as failing would mean eternal darkness. Her most faithful student, who wasn't Twilight in this story because it was a fiction, precised the filly, that student also searched a cure by any mean available to her. She worked without counting, nights and nights with panic and alarm around her, and nopony would know what her work was looking like.

To… cure the princess, her student had taken one of her feather, magic glow from her horn and bristles from her leg. Then she made a doll of soil and with the feather, glow and bristles she experimented on the princess magic to learn about the illness and finally cure it. It was almost hopeless, and that pushed the student to go always further, to the point where, using her magic, she merged all she had gathered from the princess with the doll. Then, finally, she could reproduce the illness and find a cure. As she was about to produce it, a guard came and told her it was already done: another pony had found a way to cure the princess, and she would soon have recovered.

It was a relief for the mare who wanted nothing but for the princess health to improve. "Of course." But when she returned in her basement, she found the doll transformed in a trembling foal made of mud. The student said: what have I done? The foal had wings, and a horn, it was an alicorn, but the student said: this thing is a monster! A princess of mud! She couldn't just destroy it, so she decided to abandon in in the Everfree Forest. She went as deep in the forest as she dared, let the creature there and returned, just to see the first dawn since long.

"Are you sure it's a horror story?" Scootaloo asked.  
"Yay, it's more sad than anything else…"  
"What do you mean? Just imagine a princess made of mud!"  
The two others didn't immediately answer.  
"I kind of feel sorry for her" the young pegasus finally admitted.

Sweetie Belle decided to prove them wrong and went further, jumping a long time to when the princess of mud had grown up. Never the student would have believed it would happen, but it did. She was now high and slim, the exact replica of the princess but yet, made purely of mud, and the only part of her that looked like one of a pony was her eyes. Then she stopped, and hesitated. Of course she knew what was coming next, but she began to doubt the others would like it.

However she tried, and she said the princess of mud would one day leave the Everfree Forest, guided by the blind need to find the one who gave her life. That need was also a feeling, an unbreakable bound that lead her to Canterlot. She would move swiftly, unnoticed by the guards, and approach the tower where the student still lived. She would turn around that tower and some ponies would catch her silhouette for a brief moment. As morning came, the student was told of that ghost moving around her tower, but she decided it was nothing. Yet guards had found steps on the grass, steps dirty, full of dirt. They decided to add guards before the tower. The very next night, the princess of mud came back and saw the guards. Her horn began to glow and one by one the guards fell on the ground, asleep. "Happy?" They were.

She would then resume circling around the tower, mourning now that her creator wouldn't show. From that height and behind the walls, the student wouldn't hear it, yet feel it, and she woke up. She almost heard that voice, like gravel, pierce through and reach her.

"Did you hear that?" Applebloom asked.  
They listened, but none of the others could hear anything. The night was quiet.  
"Good job, Applebloom! You really scared us!"  
"I wasn't trying to…"

They kept looking around but the tree house was peaceful, with its fireflies still hovering around and the sheets of paper shining in the obscurity. They felt stupid and began to giggle at those fears, so Sweetie Belle kept going.

When the guards were discovered asleep, everypony knew the student was in danger. The princess asked her if she knew who or what would have reasons to act against her, but she answered there was none and nothing. She had remembered the doll, the experimentations, yet she refused to admit them. So they put magic spells and the guard captain took charge of the student's protection. The third night the princess of mud was there, feeling the wards. She opened her wings and flew past them, up to the height where the student was sleeping. She flew around and found a balcony where she landed. The sound of her hooves once again woke up the mare who, in alarm, called for the guards. But before they could arrive she was obliged to hear, step after step, the sound of those hooves not tapping, more like dripping, as they approached. And she could almost see her shadow-

She stopped fast, feeling as the others the sudden change in obscurity, as it went deeper. Clouds were masking the moon, reckoned Applebloom. But they all had heard the dripping too, which was probably a rest of humidity on the orchard leaves. Still, they weren't sure, and Applebloom more than the other crusaders as she kept turning her head to the door. She was almost certain the dripping was at the ramp.

"I have an idea! I'm tired!" She suddenly said. "Let's call it a night!"  
Strangely Sweetie Belle opposed no resistance.  
"Let's finish that story tomorrow night!"

She was already at the door, about to open it when a shiver let her unsure. She gulped, but opened, and found nothing but the familiar farm and apple trees aligned. All left the tree house and returned, Sweetie Belle to the Carousel without the roll of paper.

* * *

Her dreams that night were happy and fun, so much that she was actually reluctant to get up. Rarity was working on that black and white dress, her hum audible under that of the sewing machine, filling their home. She noticed a plate on the night table, lunch still warm with a note from her sister, because she wouldn't wake up. Scootaloo had already come and would try again later. She also found the quill aligned with the pot of ink, and new dull sheets of paper piled with precaution just near them. Once up the filly ate, then went down to put the plate back in the kitchen. She thought she could wash it, so she went to the sink and let water flow. At around that moment she noticed traces of mud on the window.

"Come on, Sweetie Belle!" She sort of joked. "It's just a bit of dirt!"

And she suddenly decided she wouldn't wash the plate anymore. The hum of her sister was distant, from the first floor, a very familiar and reassuring tone. Under daylight the fears had almost no weight, ridiculous compared to the beauty outside. With that she decided she would wait for the return of Scootaloo, if not only to test that dress. So she wandered a bit, just to see a silhouette pass in front of the window, too fast to guess who it was, but too big to be just a filly. "That's it!" She asserted as the young unicorn trotted to the door, opened it and went out around the Carousel.

There was nothing to be seen, no pony near and those she could see, by the bridges or near the thatched houses seemed to have seen nothing. Then she remembered in her story there would be hoofprints made of mud, but after a second turn of the Carousel she could find none. Proud of her, Sweetie Belle returned inside and to the kitchen to finish washing the dish, and she whistled too, again letting water flow, rubbing the plate a bit, then opening the eyes to look at the window, to meet two vivid eyes. It was princess Celestia, she was certain of it, every trait perfectly matching, but covered by a mud that seemed to keep dripping with no end. It was like a statue, fixed, fixing her, a glance of those vivid eyes that felt so empty.

Slowly, very slowly, Sweetie Bell walked backward, her little tap on the floor almost extinct, and she would keep her eyes on that statue by the window, so majestic, the smell of soil filling her muzzle. After she left the kitchen, the window hidden to her, she kept walking backwards up the stairs, to her sister's room.

"Rarity…" She asked with innocence.  
"Yes?" Her sister answered with more innocence.  
"Did princess Celestia plan to come here today?" With too much innocence.  
"Why no! She's far too busy as it is!" Genuinely. "Wait, did you see her?"  
"No no! I was just asking…"

And she left her pure sister completely at a loss to run in her room and lock the door, then check the window was closed too, then that there was nothing under the bed, or in the wardrobe. "What do I do what do I do!" She knew what she saw, but that didn't answer her question. Most of all her face expressed incomprehension, how it could happen, what was happening, and she looked at those sheets of paper as if they would bear any answer but they were only normal sheets.

Her reasoning abruptly came to an end when she heard her sister scream, then the loud noise of her falling with her sewing machine. The filly yelled: "Sister!" And unlocked her door, ran into the corridor to see hoofprints in front of her, reaching Rarity's room, the door open and there she was, lying on the floor. The dress was all muddy, so much dirt that it was hard to see the tissue under it. She ran to her unconscious sister and yelled again, then looked around to see the window open, with the edge dirty too. "Okay! No more sweet Sweetie Belle!" She jumped past the stair, let the door open behind her as the filly shot through the path in direction of the Everfree Forest.

"Good morning Sweetie Belle!" Said Fluttershy at her cottage.  
The shy mare was on the path to the forest.  
"Quick!" She didn't even greet her back. "Have you seen a princess of mud?"  
"Wait… like the one in your story?

Of all the answers, the only one the filly didn't expect was this one. Yet the mare, her face partly covered by her smooth mane, had really asked that, even though they didn't see each other for days.

"How… who cares! Did you see one?"  
"Oh! No."

It was the only answer she wanted, and reserving everything else for later, despite her legs already hurting from her run she raced to the trees, even as Fluttershy asked her to stop, a voice already too weak by the distance. Only when exhaustion got reason of her anger did she notice the surrounding dark forest, and she became anxious, yet kept pressing forward. She was alone, she wasn't letting go.

And there it was, suddenly. Just as she had reached past a branch she discovered the princess of mud, standing right in front of her. Her mane was a wonder by itself, flowing lightly yet of soil, like thin powder. Her full body was of earth so humid it was almost nauseous. She hadn't the other attributes, the crown, the collar, the shoes, and at their place was engraved the mark of their absence. Above all those vivid eyes were fixed on her, over the kind expression of her face. Sweetie Belle realized she was paralyzed by terror, because of so close they were, and that she could almost feel its breath.

The creature spoke, a voice like gravel thought the filly: "Are you…" Trembling. "Did you really give me life?"

She couldn't answer, not yet, so all she did was nod, in such a little movement that her light pink mane almost didn't follow. Her legs made her feel like a second statue before this one, and she felt helpless.

"Tell me, what am I?"  
"You're ugly."

At this precise instant it was all she succeeded to think about, and even once she said it she didn't realize she said it, or what she said. The statue of mud blinked, then repeated that last word detaching every sound of it. Only then did she understand and Sweetie Belle quickly tried to repair her mistake:

"Wait! You're fine! You're just… muddy! That's all! Dirty, maybe, a bit… what am I saying? You are just a pile of mud, you hurt my sister, I don't like you!"  
"You abandoned me, you ignored me and buried my name, you hoped for monsters to destroy me. And contrary to me, you had a heart."  
"I did nothing of the sort!"  
"Then tell me" the princess of mud said, a threat in her tone: "how I end."

* * *

Before the filly could answer they heard voices, and she recognized Twilight and Fluttershy. The two mares appeared between the trees, shocked to see the creature of mud that was resembling the princess so much.

To the white unicorn's surprise, despite the shock they didn't ask any question. On the contrary, as the discussion turned between them and the false princess it was them who would explain. Twilight had offered the filly magic sheets of paper, that up so far had had no effect she knew of. It was her mistake that rendered the story real, but she didn't know it yet. Then, this morning she received a letter from Canterlot; princess Celestia had fallen ill, and it was princess Luna who had risen the sun. That much made Sweetie Belle gasp as she alone knew how her story would end. Then the purple mare explained how Applejack had come to her, with her magic sheets and the written story. But both wouldn't believe it, and she went with her first plan, going to Fluttershy as her first step to find a cure. On her way she had also met Scootaloo, who would tell her about their night, but it was only when she would narrate the story to Fluttershy that she would realize the connection.

"Now," Twilight added, "with your help I can solve everything."  
The princess of mud asked: "How?"  
"Easy! Sweetie Belle has written the other half of the story, so I'll simply follow the instructions to cure the princess and help you too!"

A bolt of suspicion sparkled in the vivid eyes, yet they all knew it wasn't a real feeling. It was written in the story, that she truly felt nothing, as she was only a doll of mud. But she would act mechanically. She turned to the unicorn filly and asked: "Is it true?" The little pony gasped but answered it was, and nervously, said Twilight was the princess's most faithful student. Something impossible to describe filled the eyes of the princess of mud. She said nothing anymore, but showed no sign of refusal either. The purple mare gave her a meeting at the library, and she nodded. They then prepared to depart, and at the moment where it had to leave its creator, the creature of mud looked infinitely at the little filly that accidentally made it exist. It expressed, but nothing she would remember.

They left the forest, past the Cottage in direction of the Carousel. Only when they were so far from the princess of mud did Sweetie Belle ask the obvious: "It was a lie?" Fluttershy nodded. They asked her how the story finished, but the bookworm mare already knew it was a horror story, by convention, that there was no happy end. At the meeting, her and her friends would use the elements of harmony. But Rarity was there, standing and smiling at the entrance of the Carousel. They hugged and the filly: "You're not hurt?" She wasn't, and the dress was nothing of importance. As long as ponies smiled, all would be fine.


End file.
